


Not so Silent a Night

by archaeologist_d



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon Era, Canon Related, Canon Universe, Christmas, Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:13:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23098393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archaeologist_d/pseuds/archaeologist_d
Summary: Merlin and Arthur are returning from their final quest for the year when a blizzard blocks the road back to Camelot. The closest village just happens to be Ealdor. But with Arthur an insensitive prat, and Merlin resenting having to be a servant in his own home and at Christmas time no less, things get a little heated.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 332
Collections: Merthur Glompfest 2020





	Not so Silent a Night

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [Kais767](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kais767/pseuds/Kais767) in the [Merthur_Glompfest_2020](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Merthur_Glompfest_2020) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Merlin and Arthur are returning from their final quest for the year when a blizzard blocks the road back to Camelot. The closest village just happens to be Ealdor. 
> 
> Arthur's worst Christmas, spent in a dingy cottage far from the luxuries that awaited him in Camelot, turns out to be his most memorable. For one, he comes to realise that no feast, festivities or small talk with boot-licking officials could compare to watching Merlin rest on Hunith's shoulder by the fireplace. 
> 
> Then there's the issue of having to share a bed with Merlin.
> 
> They leave Ealdor when a search party arrives, and stroll through the gates of Camelot much like how they were when they embarked on this eventful journey. A prince and his servant, riding beside one another, but with far fewer secrets between them.
> 
> Basically, an impromptu Christmas in Ealdor peppered with angst, passion, and a mother's inkling. Arthur is an insensitive prat, and Merlin resents having to be a servant in his own home.

It was all the clotpole’s fault.

Merlin told him it smelt like snow, but no, of course, the git wouldn’t listen. Of course, they had to go and hunt down the latest monster du jour, as if a creature with the head of a chicken and body of a dog wasn’t anything but a made-up rumour to draw out the prince and maybe capture and ransom him off to the highest bidder.

That would have been alright. At least ransom would have got them a dingy cell and mouldy bread while they waited for Uther to get his head out of his arse and send money, the tight-fisted reprobate. But when did anything ever go right for them?

The chicken-dog was huge and fast, and its beak was the size of a cow and hard as steel. It grabbed onto Arthur’s sword and broke it into pieces in the first second. Then there was lots and lots of running and Arthur complaining about how the royal swordsmith really needed to up his game. Merlin didn’t have time to point out that the chicken-dog was magical and only magical weapons would work on them. The prat wouldn’t have listened anyway.

It should have been easy to lose the creature. Chickens weren’t known for their brains and the beast was so large that it couldn’t get into small spaces. But the doggy half of the monster was a good hunter, easily picking up their trail and then trying to dig them out of the cave they’d burrowed into while its giant chicken-head kept pecking away at them.

It was only when the cave was collapsing and Arthur, of course, lost consciousness from a falling rock, that Merlin was able to kill the creature with magic and a large bone he’d found in the cave. Straight down its gullet.

It was a nasty death and Merlin hated to do it, but he had to think about his destiny. And chicken wasn’t mentioned in any of the stories. Or dogs or chicken-dogs. Whatever.

When Arthur finally woke up and started complaining about how he’d not had time to despatch the monster, Merlin pointed out that it was snowing outside, and Arthur could go and pound sand if he wanted to. Merlin was staying where it was at least dry.

What they didn’t realise was that the cave wasn’t abandoned.

What they did realise was that a bear, a non-magical one this time, was very unhappy to be sharing his den with them and let them know it.

So, they were stuck on the border, with no horses since they’d galloped off at the first sign of trouble, no supplies, and a blizzard. Great.

And that’s how they ended up in Ealdor.

* * *

Hunith’s hugs were the best. Even Arthur’s face lit up when Hunith grabbed him and gave him one, although it looked like he didn’t know what to do at first but finally melted when she didn’t let go right away. Merlin decided not to mock him just then. Maybe later when they were back at Camelot and Arthur was being a pillock.

After the fiasco with the bear, Merlin was exhausted. After hours of slogging through the snow, the prat behind him complaining the whole time, he just wanted to sit down by the fire and not move. Everything ached, and he was bone tired.

So of course, Arthur started ordering him around. As soon as Hunith was sitting by the fire, stirring the dinner pot, Arthur said, “Merlin, I need a bath. Pull out the bathtub, would you, and heat up some water. I’ll wait.”

The absolute arse. Even Hunith looked aghast. But when she started to say something about a tub, Merlin couldn’t hold it in. “Well, your High and Mightiness, we don’t have tubs in Ealdor. We have wash basins and snow melt. I’ll just get some, shall I, and shove it up your….”

“Merlin! Arthur is our guest. Of course, he’ll need to wash up.” Hunith sent Arthur a tentative smile. “Go and get the washbasin, and when you fill it with snow, you can come back in and we’ll heat it up for the prince.”

When his mum used that tone of voice, Merlin didn’t dare say anything. He did let out a few choice words as he stumbled in the cold, gathering snow for the cabbagehead. He wanted to jam it, snow and ice and cold, down the back of the arse’s neck.

But instead, like a dutiful son, he warmed it up, although the water was a bit tepid since he refused to give in to the prat. When he shoved it into Arthur’s hands, Arthur just looked at it, obviously waiting for Merlin to wash him. Merlin dropped the washcloth into the basin and stomped away.

That earned Merlin another stern look from his mum, but he didn’t care. He was home, it was almost Christmas, and he refused to be a servant in his own house. Damn the dollophead.

Instead, he sat down, and began to tie up pine and greens and the one ribbon Hunith always used for Christmas to decorate the house. Merlin needed to remember to send more ribbon when he was back at Camelot. But with the arse ordering him around all the time and Gaius sending him out looking for herbs and Merlin saving Arthur and the kingdom from all sorts of magical threats, Merlin barely had time to breathe, never mind ribbon shopping. Maybe he could talk Gwen into it. 

When he was done, the holly berries and red ribbon and greenery were tied up in a bundle and hung over the fireplace, with Hunith smiling and giving him a kiss on the cheek, and Arthur asking why Merlin didn’t do that for him when they were at Camelot. Merlin just sent him a look that should have turned the pillock into a toad, an ugly one.

But Hunith muttered something under her breath and Merlin fake-smiled at Arthur and said, “Of course, my lord. I’ll cover the walls in greens and gold thread, berries and fruits and fripperies, shall I? Because heaven forfend the prince doesn’t get everything he could ever want.” 

With that, Hunith grabbed Merlin’s ear, and pulled him into the bed alcove. Into his very sore ear, she angry-whispered, “What is wrong with you? He’s asking for something to remember Ealdor and our time together. If you want me not to box your ears every moment you are here, you will be nice to him.”

Merlin muttered, “Yes, Mum. I’ll try.”

With that, she patted him on the head, then went back to the fire and stirred the pot a little more.

Arthur, surprisingly, didn’t mock him. At all. Which made Merlin distinctly uncomfortable. It could only be that the git had something in mind for later, when Merlin least expected it.

Arthur didn’t even complain about Hunith’s cooking like last time, just ate it slowly, and smiled when she asked him if it was all right. “Thank you, my lady.” When Hunith told him to call her by her first name, that they were all friends here, Arthur said, “Thank you, my… Hunith. I appreciate the effort. I know it must be a surprise when Merlin and I arrived, but we will try and make our stay as easy and undemanding as we can. I thought perhaps we could chop some wood for you tomorrow or go hunting for fresh meat. I’m known for my hunting skills and Merlin isn’t totally inept, although he does tend to scare away the game.”

Merlin scowled at the prat. They’d just got there after all, and Merlin would like to spend some time with his mum. Still Arthur was right. Fresh meat was always welcome.

Hunith, the traitor, said, “Merlin’s still a growing boy and boys aren’t always the most graceful. There was this one time he….”

“Mother!” Merlin said, horrified. The last thing he needed was for Arthur to hear stories about him growing up. “I’m sure Arthur isn’t interested in that. We’ll set some traps tomorrow down by the stream. There should be game there, even in the snow.”

Smiling, smug and supercilious, Arthur said, “He trips so often I thought he’d practiced it for years, but it could be he just does it to irritate me. Isn’t that right, Merlin?”

“The irritation part is right, you…” Merlin snapped. But when Hunith sent Merlin a sharp look, Merlin said more carefully, “Err, of course, sire.” Then he turned to her. “I assume there’s a party tomorrow at the headman’s hut.”

Smiling, Hunith said, “Of course. It’s Christmas Eve.” She turned to Arthur. “There will be dancing and mead and even a bottle of wine. Nothing fancy as I’m sure you are used to in Camelot, but you are most welcome, Prince Arthur.”

“I would be honoured, Hunith.” Arthur gave a little bow, then looking at Merlin, he said, “You know how to dance?”

“Do you? All I’ve ever seen is you and your thick friends around the supper table, scarfing down platefuls. I’ve already had to let out your belt a notch and by the looks of it, I’ll….” Merlin let out a yelp because his mum was grabbing his ear again and dragging him away.

“I swear, Merlin, I will throw you out into the snow and make you sleep in the barn if you don’t stop,” Hunith hissed.

There was a sharp snort in Arthur’s direction. Merlin couldn’t tell because he couldn’t move. Hunith had a strong grip and Merlin’s ear was beginning to really hurt. As she let go, he started rubbing it, hoping to bring some circulation back.

After staring at Merlin for a long uncomfortable moment, Hunith said, “I taught you better than this. Now, get back in there and be good.”

Stomping back to Arthur and glaring at him because it really was his fault, Merlin said, “These are country dances so I’m not sure you would know them. If you like, I can teach you the basic steps.”

Looking first at Hunith with warmth, then at Merlin with a kind of glee in his eyes, Arthur nodded. “That would be quite acceptable. As long as you don’t stomp on my toes too much.”

“You know, you…,” Merlin started to say something since the arse deserved it, but Hunith cleared her throat loudly, and Merlin just sighed. “Of course. We can do it now if you like.”

For a moment, Arthur looked surprised as if he’d expected more of a fight, then he nodded, and together, they moved the furniture out of the way. Hunith stood apart, near the bed, and began to hum a merry little tune. She’d found a drum, too, a bodhran by the looks of it, and played it, keeping time.

Merlin knew his mum would be disappointed in him if he deliberately taught Arthur the wrong steps – even though the prat deserved it. Instead, he manhandled Arthur into standing next to him, and grabbed his hand. “It’s a circle dance so it’s pretty basic. First, we go left, feet crossed in front and behind, then hop once, then go right and do the same feet thing. Watch me and try and keep up.”

It was pretty simple, and most children could do it, never mind a warrior who knew how to move his body in ways most could not.

Arthur caught on right away, the git, and they did it a couple of times just to make sure. Arthur was laughing by the end of it, and Hunith, too. Even Merlin felt good about it. He’d not stepped on Arthur’s toes once.

So emboldened, Merlin taught him a few more, the steps growing more complex as Arthur mastered each one. Of course, it all ended with Arthur stepping on Merlin’s toes. They went down in a heap and lay there giggling as Hunith gave a final drumroll and went ‘hurrah’.

As Arthur stood up, he reached down and took Merlin’s hand, pulling him up, then began to dust him off. “You’re not half-bad, Merlin. If you like, when we get home, there are some more intricate ones I can teach you.”

It felt weird to have Arthur’s hands all over him, brushing dirt off his tunic and the back of his leggings with his mother there, but then Arthur was always manhandling him, so he just let it go. His cheeks felt warm, and she was looking at them both with an odd expression, almost speculative.

A moment later, it was all gone. Because Arthur was a royal arse and Merlin should have known better.

It was time for bed and his mum kept offering her bed to them both. At least in this, Arthur wasn’t a wanker because he insisted on the floor.

Of course, he also insisted that Merlin sleep there with him. Top to tail again, like last time.

Merlin wasn’t having any of it. “You shoved your stinky feet in my face last time, and I’m not going to survive another whiff of that. It would kill a horse.” Hunith coughed, louder this time. “Mum, really, it’s pretty bad. But I won’t take your bed either so the floor it is, but it’s head to head. No feet in the face, not unless Arthur want them chopped off and then he’d be a lot shorter than me. More than he already is.”

Puffing up his chest, Arthur said, “That is a bald-faced lie, you buffoon.”

Hunith really should look into that cough. But Merlin wouldn’t back down, either. After all, he was taller than Arthur. Truth was truth.

The glaring contest took a while, but finally, Hunith spread out the blankets she had, and it looked like it was time for bed. Merlin started to take off his clothes, at least the outer ones and his socks, too, as they were a bit ripe. Arthur just stood there, waiting. And waiting some more. And finally, he said, “You are my manservant, the worst one in Five Kingdoms, but could you do your job for once?”

Merlin looked him up and down. “I’m on vacation. And not in Camelot. Or are you so inept that you can’t take off your own clothes?”

From behind the curtain, Hunith cleared her throat, loudly. Merlin wouldn’t be surprised if they heard it in the next county.

Growling out his displeasure, Merlin reached over and swiftly, thoroughly, and a bit harshly, pulled off Arthur’s clothes, catching his ears as the tunic came off, the toes getting squelched by Merlin’s feet, his breeches yanked down so fast that the short braies underneath came with them.

That was a bit embarrassing for Merlin as his face was right at Arthur’s groin and he had to admit, the package there was decent. Not that he’d tell Arthur that.

Arthur, on the other hand, thought he was hilarious. “Like anything you see down there, _Mer_ lin?”

Scrambling up, jerking the short braies back into place with a decided pull – Arthur’s ‘ouch’ was music to Merlin’s ears, Merlin said, “Nothing that can’t be fixed.”

Arthur’s screech was satisfying. “You buffoon. I’ll fix you, you….”

Hunith’s loud voice was less satisfying. “Don’t make me come out there.”

Both of them muttered ‘sorry’, then climbed into the pile of blankets on the floor, Arthur taking most of them, and then Merlin jerking some of them back.

For a while, they didn’t say anything. Hunith was snoring a little in her alcove, and Merlin certainly didn’t want to wake her, but Arthur ended up with most of the blankets again and Merlin lay there shivering.

Finally, Arthur said, “You are too loud. Can’t you stop that noise? It’s annoying.”

Merlin glared at him. “You have all the blankets and I’m cold. Sorry if my shivering and teeth chattering is keeping your royal almightiness awake.”

“Oh, dear lord, you are ridiculous. Get under the covers.” Arthur lifted the blankets and Merlin slid into them while keeping as far away from Arthur as he could. He wouldn’t want to sully the royal prat with his peasant existence.

But Arthur surprised him, grabbing Merlin by the waist, pulling him in, then curling his body around Merlin. The warmth was amazing, and Merlin couldn’t help sinking into Arthur’s embrace. Of course, the pillock had to go and ruin it. “Shut up, Merlin. I can hear you thinking. I can’t have my manservant dying of the cold, now can I. Hunith would never forgive me.”

And that was that.

* * *

When Merlin woke up, he just wanted to lay there. Arthur was wrapped around him, their legs tangled up, his breath warm against Merlin’s neck. Arthur’s hand, too, was a little close to Merlin’s family jewels, and as he began rocking into Merlin from behind, Arthur’s morning erection pretty darn obvious against Merlin’s arse, Arthur’s fingers curled around Merlin’s cock and began exploring a bit. If Merlin didn’t know better, he’d think that Arthur didn’t realize what he was doing and maybe thought he was bringing himself off.

Either way, it would be awkward, more than awkward to let it go on. And yet, Merlin wasn’t about to wake Arthur up. He’d probably be blamed for it, and Arthur would be embarrassed and maybe even exile him or at the very least, put him in the stocks for a month. But more importantly, Arthur was quite good at what he was doing, and Merlin was feeling distinctly excited about it all.

Excited enough that he had to stuff his fist in his mouth when he came. All over Arthur’s hand.

Less excited when the next moment, Merlin’s arse was very warm and sticky and Arthur bit down on Merlin’s neck.

Even less excited the moment after when Arthur said, “If you tell anyone about this, I will cut you up into small pieces and feed you to my dogs.”

Fair enough.

* * *

Merlin spent some of the morning cleaning the soiled blankets and his very soiled braies. Then Arthur had the brilliant idea of Merlin chopping wood while Arthur set traps. Never mind that Merlin knew perfectly well how to set traps and just the place to set them whereas he really wasn’t sure Arthur wouldn’t cut his own foot off if he chopped wood.

When he pointed that out, however, Arthur merely said, “How hard can it be?”

The trap-setting went well. Arthur, of course, oversaw everything, making comments about Merlin’s prowess with the traps, telling him just how to place them, how to set them, how to do just about everything except actually setting the traps. When Merlin pointed that out, Arthur got huffy and said it wasn’t his job. Yeah.

The chopping of wood didn’t go nearly as well. Merlin showed Arthur how it was done, and he expected the prat to be okay with it. After all, he was chopping people up every time he went to war – which got Merlin another look.

At first it was fine. The blocks fell apart, more or less cut as they should be, but then Arthur got cocky and knocked a block clear across the yard when the axe hit it at the wrong angle. The next one was worse, the wood clunking against Arthur’s boot, and Arthur ‘walked it off’ which meant lots of cursing and a red face and a limp. At least he hadn’t broken anything.

After that, Merlin sent him inside and he finished up.

By the time he was done, Merlin was exhausted again, wishing he could just take a nap. But when he went inside to check on Arthur, he found the git sipping mulled wine with his mum, never mind that wine was only brought out for very very special occasions.

And Hunith was regaling Arthur with Merlin stories, about the time he was stuck in old Man Simmon’s tree after being chased by Will’s pig who had got out when Merlin forgot to close the gate. And then she said, “It took him ages to get down, but the very next day, he fell into the creek, naked as the day he was born, and….”

“Mother!” Merlin never yelled at his mum but giving Arthur blackmail fodder was a step too far. “Remember, we agreed. No youthful tales of Merlin getting into trouble.”

Arthur put on an innocent face, one Merlin recognized well. “Oh, don’t worry, Merlin. I told your mum about the cross-dressing and all the time you spend in the tavern. Oh, and the time you fell into the cesspit and we had to rescue you.” He turned to Hunith, grinning. “He reeked for days after.”

Scowling down at him, Merlin said, slowly, distinctly, flatly, “Arthur, I have lots of tales of your exploits. Do I need to go down the list?”

“Indeed not. Those are not for a lady’s ear,” Arthur said, his cheeks pink. “I’m feeling better now. How about those traps? Have you checked them yet?”

Merlin just stared at him, long enough that Arthur got the hint. They both bundled up in warm coats, Merlin with an extra blanket as the weather was turning colder and stomped their way over to the stream.

The traps had sprung and two rabbits, both with thick fur, were dead. Hunith could smoke the meat and have rabbit for a week, and the fur would be useful for a hat or mittens.

They didn’t say much to each other. Merlin was still pretty miffed about his mum telling Arthur things and Arthur seemed quiet, and strangely for him, contemplative. It wasn’t until they were almost back at the hut when Arthur said, “I like your mum. I can see why you miss her so much.”

Blinking, surprised at Arthur, Merlin said, “She’s great. She raised me alone and yet she always knew just the right thing to say. I got into trouble a lot as a kid.”

“You still do.” Arthur snickered. “You’re a walking trouble magnet.”

“Not as much as you, clotpole.” Merlin glared at him a moment, then sighed. “It’s been hard for her with me gone.”

“I’ll have to give you more time off to visit. Or she could come live in the castle.” Arthur seemed quite happy with the idea. Merlin could almost see the wheels turning inside Arthur’s head. He seemed to be thinking about where Hunith would live and how much she’d brighten up the place.

It was sweet in a way, but Merlin said, “She loves it here. I’ve tried and tried but she won’t move. But thank you for the suggestion. It’s… kind.”

“I think my mum would have liked yours.” Arthur seemed disappointed, but then he reached out and put his arm around Merlin’s shoulder, giving him a friendly not-quite-hug before letting him go. “Thank you for sharing her, even if it’s just a few days.”

Maybe Arthur wasn’t such a prat after all.

* * *

Arthur couldn’t seem to wrap his head around the idea that they didn’t dress up for the Christmas feast because there were no extra clothes. Considering how many outfits were hiding away in Arthur’s closet, Merlin thought that made sense.

But they did neaten up. They washed a bit in melted snow, and Merlin tried to comb his wild hair but gave it up as a lost cause. Arthur, of course, with that golden hair of his, just had to pat it down and it looked perfect.

The party was getting started and already Arthur was the centre of attention. Every girl and woman and old hag wanted to dance with him and a few of the men, too. Merlin just watched from the side-lines, sipping mead as the ring dances turned energetic, Arthur laughing through it all.

It was a good look. In the more sedate festivities at the castle, Arthur had to be the prince at all times and with King Uther watching him like a hawk, he couldn’t let go and just be Arthur, just dance with anyone without the consequences following him. It was sad in a way.

Now, Arthur was just so joyous. He only stopped to get a drink or two before someone else pulled him away. He was sweaty and flushed and beautiful, and Merlin wanted to snog him senseless.

Finally, Arthur grabbed Merlin’s drink, downed it in a single long gulp, then pulled Merlin into the dance. There was laughter and warm hands and Arthur smiling was the best thing Merlin had ever seen. He wanted it to go on forever.

As the night went on, it got rowdier. The older folk like Merlin’s mum went back to their houses to sleep, but Arthur and Merlin pretty much lasted far into the night, dancing and drinking and holding onto each other to keep from falling down.

Finally, the headman shooed them all home, and Arthur and Merlin slip-slided back.

For a moment, outside Hunith’s hut, they stared up at the stars. The snow had stopped sometime during the dance, and it was bright and clear. A sky full of scattered diamonds, and as Merlin and Arthur looked up, one streaked across the sky.

Beauty in the cold night air.

If he’d had a little less to drink, Merlin wouldn’t have asked. He knew he’d be mocked for it since Arthur was too practical for such frivolities, but he was feeling warm and happy and not a little drunk. So, he nudged Arthur and said, “Did you make a wish?”

Arthur blinked at him, then smiled, at first a little tentative, then hunger-sharp. “Yes, and I’m about to make it come true.”

In the next breathless moment, Arthur’s lips were wanton against Merlin’s, tasting, demanding, his tongue thrusting in, exploring. His hands, too, cold as they were, went digging past Merlin’s jacket, up under his tunic, and began to play with the muscles there, his thumb arching across Merlin’s all too sensitive nipple.

Merlin was in utter shock for about a tenth of a second, then he kissed Arthur back, thrust for thrust, open-mouthed and aching. He grabbed Arthur’s face, pulling him closer, then tried to burrow deeper into Arthur’s exploring hands.

It was too cold, and in the back of Merlin’s not-quite-functional brain, he knew they needed to take it inside where it was warm, and they could get naked. So, he kicked the door open, and pulled Arthur in.

Arthur stopped a moment. “Shhhh, don’t wake your mum.” But he closed the door just as quickly, and began to pull off Merlin’s clothes, all the while his mouth sucking on Merlin’s neck.

Glancing to see that Hunith had pulled the curtain to her bed alcove shut, Merlin relaxed. He hadn’t wanted his mum seeing him sucking Arthur’s cock or greased up and begging for it as Arthur thrust in. But he did have enough mind left to grab cooking oil from the shelf, just in case.

Arthur must have seen what he was doing because he mouthed into Merlin’s neck, “You aren’t completely useless.”

Snorting, Merlin unbuckled Arthur’s belt, letting it slide out of his fingers. “And yet I’m still smarter than you.”

Biting down, then soothing the spot with his tongue, Arthur pulled back. “Shut up, Merlin.”

Merlin just laughed and pulled Arthur’s tunic off. “Smarter, wiser, and about to show you what a mouth can do.”

Then he bent down and sucked on Arthur’s nipple, his thumb playing with the other one. Arthur grunted at that, and as Merlin leaned in, he could feel Arthur’s cock hardening, pushed against his breeches. He followed the line of hair and muscle, down, down, his tongue busy with exploration, and his hands were busy, too, pulling off Arthur’s boots, unlacing his breeches, then pulling off his braies, so that glorious cock was thrusting a bit into the air.

Arthur breathed out Merlin’s name, and Merlin took it for what it was, desire.

While Merlin’s thumbs were stroking the joint between hip and thigh, Merlin gave Arthur’s cock a little lick, then sat back and watched Arthur’s eyes darken, his lips wet with want. There was the sound of ‘please’ and ‘yes’ in the air, and Merlin used his tongue to explore the hard-soft feel of cock and skin, heated and thrusting forward to follow that tongue. 

Arthur’s hand curled around Merlin’s head and pushed him closer, and Merlin, taking Arthur’s cock in, tongue busy, lips wrapped around him, opened his throat and let Arthur slide all the way down.

There was a choked sound above him, but he was too busy trying to pull pleasure out of Arthur to look. Arthur staggered back, panting, and Merlin let him go.

“Merlin, Merlin, it… I… please, let me in.” Arthur was standing there swaying, his cock red and flushed and wet with desire.

For a moment, Merlin didn’t understand what he was saying, but Arthur shoved Merlin down, then pulling off Merlin’s braies, kissed him as if he couldn’t get enough of him. Arthur’s hands were busy, too, reaching for the oil, then fingers curling around Merlin’s cock, making Merlin arch up, pleasure a heady fire in his groin.

Arthur let go and Merlin was about to protest when Arthur leaned over, taking Merlin’s cock in his mouth, tongue busy trying to pull bliss out of him, all the while Arthur’s fingers, wet with more oil, explored past bollocks and the soft spot between his legs and into Merlin’s entrance.

Merlin had never done it before. He was more innocent than he wanted to admit, and Arthur’s finger, then fingers, probing deep into Merlin, felt strange at first. But Arthur’s mouth was a wonder of pleasure, and then Arthur found something inside that made Merlin want to push up and push back and it felt like explosions of fire and bliss.

He must have made a choking sound because Arthur pulled back, letting Merlin’s cock cool in the night air, then pulled his fingers out, whispering, “Can you keep quiet, Merlin? Can you?”

When Merlin nodded, Arthur gave him a soft kiss, then with a move Merlin could have admired if he wasn’t so intent on coming, he flipped Merlin over, and pulled him back so that he was on all fours. Arthur curled around him, his cock nudging Merlin’s entrance, and slowly pushed in, just as he wrapped his hand around Merlin’s cock and began a slow intense dance of fingers and pleasure.

It was meant to distract from the strange feeling inside, but as Arthur pushed in, up and up until he hit that spot, Merlin saw stars. And then it was a battle to see what would drive Merlin crazy first, Arthur’s fingers smearing liquid across Merlin’s cockhead or Arthur’s cock hitting that spot inside.

Merlin didn’t care. His groin was fire-filled, burning with the need to come, the pleasure intense as pain. He couldn’t breathe for it, and yet the ecstasy just kept growing, filling his body with want and bliss and Arthur, always Arthur. He tried to fight it, tried to keep it from becoming too much. He wanted to make it last forever, and yet when Arthur sucked on his skin just there, in the joint between neck and shoulder, he let go.

With a load moan, he poured out his ecstasy into Arthur’s hand, all that heat and light exploding in his brain, an eternity of pleasure spreading through him as if he wasn’t bone and blood but sunfire.

It took centuries to come down from it, and behind him, Arthur was stilling and crying out Merlin’s name as he came, too.

Forever later, they were both breathing into each other’s neck, sticky and sweat-laden and tired, too tired to even get up and clean themselves off, although Arthur did try and make Merlin do it. But Merlin just sent him a look and Arthur shook his head and lay back down again.

Merlin didn’t even remember falling asleep.

* * *

His mum was already cooking breakfast when Merlin woke up. She didn’t say much, just looked at the clothes scattered around, then sent a knowing smile to Merlin before turning back to the porridge.

Arthur was never good at mornings, but at least he was polite to Hunith even if he looked rather embarrassed when Merlin whispered, “Mum knows something is up. I just hope she didn’t listen last night.”

Arthur, the pillock, said, “Last night? Nothing happened last night. We danced, we got drunk, we came home. The end.”

Wanting to beat him bloody but knowing it wouldn’t end well, Merlin hissed out, his voice growing louder with every word, “Is that how it’s going to be? Just fuck the lowly servant and then pretend it never happened? Well, thank you, my _lord_ , for explaining to me just how important I am in the grand scheme of things. You can go to hell.”

Merlin would have stomped out, but he was naked under the blankets and it took a while to get dressed with his mum there.

Hunith didn’t say anything, just looked at them both as if they were idiots and went back to her alcove and shut the curtain to give them privacy.

Arthur was babbling something about being misunderstood and could they talk about it when they got back to Camelot, but it was all just noise.

Merlin was done. He slammed the door on the way out and then stomped his way out into the snow-covered field and over to the stream and thought about never going back.

Of course, the wanker followed him. Heaven forbid should Merlin have the last word on it. 

“Merlin, listen… I.” Arthur started to say but Merlin just glared at him.

“So, sex with you was just a one-off, or a two-off. I don’t care what you said about the dogs, it did happen.” Merlin shouted because he was so very finished with this shit. “I didn’t think you were that type of man, to use people like that, just fuck them and laugh about it later but good to know. I’ll tell whoever you hire next that fucking is part of his job just so there’ll be no misunderstanding. I’m sure you’ll have lots of people gagging for it. Boot-lickers, every one.”

“Merlin, shut up. I’m not sacking you.” Arthur shouted right back at him, “And it’s not what you think.”

“So, it was all just a dream, then. No nakedness, no shoving your cock inside me, no come all over the blankets. Of course, it was a dream, what was I thinking!” Their voices were echoing down the field, but Merlin didn’t care. “You fucking arsehole.”

“Just shut up about it.” Arthur snapped, sharp and sounding worried. He kept glancing around, as if he didn’t want anyone to know.

Of course, he didn’t. Otherwise, what they’d done might have meant something. Like it did with Merlin.

“What does it matter? I’m quitting. Destiny is shit anyway. Go back to Camelot and fuck your way through half of Camelot and see if I care.” Merlin waved his hands in the air, then scrubbed his fingers through his hair. “Because I don’t.” Then he turned away, sitting on a cold log, looking down at his snow-covered boots, and tried to hold back his tears.

For a moment, there was silence.

Softly, quietly, Arthur said, “Servants are disposable to my father. He’d laugh if he found out I’d had sex with one. Because servants don’t matter to him. Because one sexual encounter was a symbol of superiority, and a royal’s privilege. One.” Arthur sat down next to Merlin, within arm’s length but not touching. “One but not two and certainly not more. The second he found out how important you are to me, he’d kill you.”

That didn’t make sense, but with royalty, nothing ever did. Merlin needed to understand, if for no other reason than his own peace of mind. “Important to you? You certainly have an odd way of showing it.”

Arthur shifted closer. “I insult you because it’s fun and you certainly know how to make up the most ridiculous insults back. My father thinks you a fool with some sort of mental affliction, and that’s protection of a sort.” He stared off into the distance, at Ealdor starting to wake up on Christmas morn. “It’s simpler here. You love who you love, and people just accept it. In Camelot, I’m expected to marry someone I might never have met before and produce children in time. No love required. In fact, love is a liability.”

Bumping shoulders with Merlin, Arthur said, “With you, it’s impossible not to be… intrigued. I’ve kept away because it’s dangerous at home. For you. I throw things, I yell, I disparage you in front of my father and the court. It’s a way to keep you safe. I thought you understood that.”

For a long time, Merlin didn’t say anything. He was thinking through all the times Arthur had mocked him in front of Uther, all the time he’d thrown things and insulted him, and told him he was useless, the worst servant in the Five Kingdoms. And what Arthur said made a kind of sense. It was madness yet, not crazy.

For once, Arthur was patient. He didn’t push for Merlin to agree, just sat there waiting for Merlin’s decision.

“You are telling me that I’m in danger because you care for me?”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Well, care for is a strong term. Perhaps tolerate might….”

Merlin pushed him off the log. “You utter arse.”

Shrugging, looking a bit sheepish as he stood up and began to brush the snow of his breeches, Arthur said, “If I admit it, it will be much harder to hide it when we go back. But care for isn’t the term I was looking for. It’s much stronger than that.”

Merlin surged up, then gave him a thorough kiss. “I more than care for you, too, you prat.”

“Merlin, we can’t be lovers, not in Camelot, not even as a rumour. Do you think you can pretend that this never happened? You are a pretty crap liar after all.” Arthur said, looking rather worried at the prospect.

Merlin just grinned. “I have some skills.”

“Tearing my breeches and scaring away the game isn’t a skill, it’s a disaster.” Arthur rolled his eyes, looking annoyed but Merlin could see through him. At long last, he finally understood.

Smiling, nudging Arthur with an elbow, then standing back, Merlin said, “When we get back to Camelot, I swear I will be careful. No midnight assignations, no kisses in the hallway, nothing but insults and washing socks and sharpening your sword.” When Arthur looked at him a bit askance, Merlin laughed. “Your real sword, not the one I was sucking last night, you daft git. But for now, Camelot is far away, and it’s Christmas and my mum has baked a pie that she’d been saving the ingredients for since summer and there’s more mulled wine, so we should head back.”

Arthur said, “A Christmas celebration in Ealdor. Sounds perfect. And if later we just happen to go out in the woods, looking for game, and take a little longer than expected, I’m sure Hunith won’t mind.”

Merlin reached over, pulling Arthur into a quick hug and let him go. “I’m sure she’d be delighted. I think she likes you better than me anyway.” 

“I’m very lovable.” Arthur straightened his shoulders, looking like the warrior he was, but his smile was soft and sweet, and Merlin wanted to snog him senseless.

Instead, Merlin turned and started walking toward the village, Arthur at his side. As he should be. As Merlin hoped he always would be.

* * *

When the patrol from Camelot in search of Prince Arthur finally arrived a few days later, Merlin and Arthur had eaten the pie, had wild sex in the woods a couple of times because Merlin knew of a cave and he wasn’t above fucking his prince in it, and helped Hunith with repairs.

Giving his mum a final good-bye hug, Merlin said, “I’ll be back when the snow melts… if the prat gives me a few days off.”

Hunith wouldn’t let him go for a good few moments, then as she stood back, ruffling his hair one last time, she said, “Bring Prince Arthur with you. He’ll always be welcome here.”

Turning to Arthur, Hunith enveloped him in a hug, too. Merlin had to lean in a little to hear her whisper into Arthur’s ear. “Take care of my boy, and take care of yourself, too, Arthur. And remember that love can move mountains, but most of all, it can bring you joy. With the right person.”

Arthur’s cheeks were turning pink when Hunith finally let go, but looking exceptionally smug, Arthur leaned over and stage-whispered to Merlin, “See, I told you she likes me best.”

“That’s because you scare away the crows with all that sword-waving.”

“It’s not sword-waving, you idiot, it’s training.” Arthur was shaking his head as he got on his horse and started to trot away.

Scrambling onto his own horse, it took a few moments to catch up to Arthur, then he waved to his mum who waved back. When she disappeared into the hut, he said, “Well, at least you caught the pigs in time. The headman was livid.”

Arthur tried to look cross, but his mouth was doing that funny thing where it looked like he wasn’t sure whether to smile or shout. Shouting won. “You were the one who let them out. Who knew they liked playing in the snow?”

“My favourite part was the pigs laughing at you as you tried to catch them. Oh, and you covered in mud. That was a good look.”

Merlin tried not to laugh, but it was hard. Arthur really had looked like he’d rolled in muck for hours by the time they’d rounded up all the pigs. His mum never did get that one tunic clean. They tore it up for rags and the villagers were thrilled when Merlin handed out the remnants. They had never seen such fine cloth before and kept thanking Arthur for it.

But Arthur just rolled his eyes, sending Merlin a look that promised retribution later. “Merlin, shut up.”

Knowing that they’d have to go back to the way they were, at least until Arthur was king, all Merlin could do was smile at Arthur, a fake-not-fake-smile that spoke of things best left unsaid, then glancing around to make sure the knights were listening, he said, “Oink, oink.”

And he started galloping away, laughing.

Behind him, his prince, his destiny, his other half, yelled out, sounding thoroughly incensed, “Merlin!”

And the race was on.

Back to Camelot and home.

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Notes: I know the glompee, Kais767, wanted it told from Arthur’s POV, but Merlin just stepped right in and took over. And Merlin wanted humour mixed in with a little bit of angst, too. Hope it’s okay.  
> Thanks sooooo much to my wonderful beta, camelittle. She’s amazing and she whipped this thing into shape. You should go read her stuff, too. I love her work!  
> Disclaimer: I do not own the BBC version of Merlin; It and Shine do. I am very respectfully borrowing them with no intent to profit. No money has changed hands. No copyright infringement is intended.


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